


Under Pressure

by Demonicputto



Series: By My Side [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chapter Specific Warnings in Author's Notes, Coming Out, High School, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Period-Typical Homophobia, Swearing, Unrequited Crush, precocious crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-26 11:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30105177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonicputto/pseuds/Demonicputto
Summary: Aziraphale has spent nearly a decade keeping an eye out for a reincarnated Crowley, but the time has finally come for them to go their separate ways. Aziraphale, now eighteen, is back in London attending university, while a thirteen-year-old Tony remains on the other side of the ocean. It's time for them both to figure out what they want from these human lives and who they want to be, but it's easy to get lost when finding yourself- particularly when the world won't accept what you discover.Updates every Wednesday.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: By My Side [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654357
Comments: 54
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to part 5 of the By My Side series. If you're new, I would suggest going back to Part 1, but if that doesn't interest you this should still be followable on its own.
> 
> To the people who've come from part 4. Hi!

October 2004

The letter was not addressed to ‘Aziraphale’ but he held it close to his chest, cherishing its arrival nevertheless. The address had been scrawled in the uneven hand of an impatient child and stamped with a mess of international postage. It had been the first proper piece of post that he’d received at his new address and he had every intention of pinning it up over his desk so that he could look at it while he worked.

Aziraphale was feather light as he made his way through the residence hall back to his room and he beamed at every random student that he passed. This too was a first. He’d been all tight smiles and tense shoulders these past few weeks.

It was nice to breathe easily again.

Humming to himself, Aziraphale unlocked his door and flicked on the lights. The room beyond was relatively sterile- off white walls and standard issue furniture. Only the bedding and a few odd posters added any hint of character. Aziraphale settled back on his own tartan bedspread, and took another look at the envelope.

Sent to Ezra Fell from Anthony Jay. To Aziraphale from Crowley- but only sort of.

It had been, dear Lord, almost fourteen years now since Crowley had become human, nearly nine since Aziraphale had done the same. For Crowley it had been a complete transformation; he remembered nothing of his millennia as a demon. In Aziraphale’s case, however, he’d kept his wits about him. He’d needed to. Crowley had been in trouble back then, he’d needed someone to look out for him and, as a slightly older boy, Aziraphale had taken on the job.

Even without the demon’s memories, they’d gotten on like a house on fire. Aziraphale had spent almost a decade looking out for ‘Anthony’. Reincarnation had been unable to keep them apart.

University had.

And so here was Aziraphale, not quite eighteen-years-old, curled up in a residence hall at University College of London, clutching an envelope addressed from Westwich, Connecticut, United States of America. He tore it open and pulled out the letter.

_Dear Ezra,_

_Sorry if my handwriting is really bad. Yours is so nice that you probably can’t even read this. I got your letter about starting school and everything. I mean, you’d already told me about most of it on the phone, but it was still nice to get something in the mail._

_Eighth grade is okay, I guess. I’m still doing all my homework and junk so you don’t have to worry about that or anything. Also, I made first chair violinist in orchestra, so that’s cool. I think I could’ve done it last year but they wouldn’t give the job to a seventh grader._

_After school is really boring without you. Sometimes I go over Mikey’s house, and I get to listen to his brother’s garage band. The downside is I have to spend time with Mikey. Ryan is never around anymore because he’s always with his girlfriend. All Mikey ever talks about is girls. He can get really gross about it too. He’s gotten really tall and practically looks like a high schooler now. If he’d use a razor and deodorant, he could probably be dating by now. But he’s hairy and smells bad, so he’s out of luck._

_It sounds like you got a pretty nice roommate, so that’s good. I’m glad his family lives nearby too, since your parents are all the way over here. They miss you a lot. I can tell because they won’t stop inviting Mom and me over for dinner._

_Speaking of Mom, you’ve got to call me right away when you get this. Something awful has happened. There’s some guy at work who keeps talking to her and I think she likes him._

_Anyway, I really hope you’re having fun at college. I mean, you’re you and there’s a lot of books so I’m assuming you are. But still._

_~~Love~~ _

_~~From~~ _

_-Tony_

It took a moment for Aziraphale to reason through the apparent non sequitur of the penultimate paragraph, before he realized that the awful thing that had happened was the guy at work. The boy had been through a number of hardships in his brief life (to say nothing of the one that had come before it) but he still managed to bring dramatics to things that hardly mattered. However, if Anthony were concerned, Aziraphale would call him.

He glanced at his watch and did a quick bit of mathematics. 8:30 PM here would mean 3:30 PM there. Anthony ought to be back from school by now.

Aziraphale’s adoptive parents had made sure to purchase him a cellular phone before sending him overseas. It spent most of its life charging uselessly beside his bed because he hadn’t quite gotten in the habit of carrying it on his person. He suppose he ought to. They were becoming quite common these days and he knew he stood out like a sore thumb without it. That, and he kept calling it ‘cellular’ instead of ‘mobile’. It wasn’t his fault he’d hadn’t much cause to talk about the things before he’d moved to the states.

Whatever he ought to call it, Aziraphale picked the device up now and was nearly ready to dial when the door knob turned. It opened just a touch and a voice called, “May I come in?”

“Of course you may. It’s your room too, after all.”

The door swung open now, revealing Atiku Olujimi, Aziraphale’s roommate. In many ways they looked like perfect opposites. Where Aziraphale was round and pale, Atiku was petite and dark. Despite this, between their spectacles and jumpers, they both looked as though they’d made the call backs for the part of a nerd on some television program.

They were both quite shy around each other but Aziraphale rather suspected he’d be fond of Atiku once they got around to talking properly.

Atiku offered an uncomfortable smile as pulled off his jacket and kicked off his trainers. He was attempting to do this, all while clutching a small bag in one hand. He looked as though he might fall over, and Aziraphale hopped up to assist him.

“Please, let me help you with that.”

“Thanks. That’s, er, for you actually. My mother sent it over. Leftovers from dinner. Have you eaten yet?”

Aziraphale gave this a bit of thought. He hadn’t actually. He’d gotten caught up in reading and, by the time he’d finished, the dining accommodations had closed for the night. He’d intended to go out after that, but he’d stopped at his post box and immediately forgotten everything else.

“I haven’t. Is this really for me?”

Atiku, now free of coat and shoes, nodded before collapsing onto his bed. “She said she’s worried about you being so far from home and wanted to make sure you were eating properly.”

It was a very sweet thought from a woman he’d only met on move in day. He supposed he’d probably looked rather pathetic, a doughy faced teenager all by himself. Atiku, who’d grown up in the city, had arrived with both parents and a younger sister to boot. Aziraphale had seemed all the lonelier by comparison.

Aziraphale set the bag on his desk and pulled out a much used thermos, heavy with whatever was inside. Twisting off the top, he was treated to a deliciously earthy smell. Inside was some sort of vegetable soup, still warm after Atiku’s journey back to UCL.

“It’s good. I promise. Have you ever had Nigerian food before?”

Having not been to the region since before anyone would have called it Nigeria, Aziraphale shook his head. “The smell is delightful though. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

Edith had insisted that he have his own little dinner setting, in case he ever needed to eat in the room. It seemed ridiculous before, but now he gratefully pulled the spoon out from storage. Atiku watched as Aziraphale took his first bite. He heaved a sigh of relief when Aziraphale smiled.

“You’ve said before that your mother was a good cook. Did you think I wouldn’t like it?”

“It’s not that. It’s only… I spent most of my childhood with kids at school wrinkling their noses at the foreign food…” The poor dear had become very interested in his socks so that he might have somewhere else to look.

“Well, you can give my compliments to your mother when you see her next.” Feeling he ought to keep the conversation going, Aziraphale added. “Are you planning to visit every weekend?”

Atiku looked up again, shaking his head. “No. If I did that there wouldn’t be much point in having moved out.”

They fell into an uneasy silence again as Aziraphale finished his meal and tried to cast about for something more to say. “I was wondering, actually, why it was that you _did_ decide to move out. Your family is only about half an hour away, aren’t they? I’d think commuting was possible.”

Atiku laughed. “I love my family, I really do. They’re lovely and supportive and Mum and Dad have worked so hard to give my sister and me everything. Only… they’ve never been much for privacy. I was going to choose a school farther away if they wouldn’t let me move out and stay in London.”

Aziraphale thought of his own adoptive parents. He hadn’t always had the most privacy with them either. “I can understand that.”

The well-meaning, awkward silence returned. Atiku looked particularly uncomfortable. He swallowed a few times and rubbed his hands together before speaking again. “Actually, as long as I’m talking about my parents and how they feel about secrets… they’ve encouraged me to be open with you about something… Said I shouldn’t be ashamed or anything…”

He wasn’t making eye contact again, and Aziraphale frowned as he tried to figure out what this could possibly be about. Atiku continued to preface whatever he intended to say, “You seem like a pretty accepting fellow and I wouldn’t want you to feel that I’d been hiding something. It’s only, one never knows how someone else might react. And you did say your father was a minister…”

That was it then. Aziraphale knew now where this was going. He’d let the poor boy finish.

“Anyway, I just thought, since we’re roommates and everything, I ought to tell you… I’m gay.” He looked up now, the heavy brows behind the frames of his glasses knitted together with worry. “I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all!” Aziraphale gave his best, most accepting angelic smile. There may also have been a tinge of relief to the expression. “I am too, actually. Should I have said something?”

It was something he’d barely ever talked about in the United States. He’d told one friend, only after she’d asked directly, and he’d had an unspoken understanding with both Anthony and his mother. However, he’d long suspected that the Clarks, his adoptive parents, would have been less than supportive.

It was odd how easy it was to talk about it all, now that they were too far away to ever hear of it.

Atiku smiled, still a little nervous, but that seemed to just be a part of him. “If you don’t mind me saying it, I thought you might be. I didn’t want to pry.”

“Well, I suppose we should thank our lucky stars or someone at the admissions board that we wound up together then. It makes everything a bit easier, doesn’t it?”

Atiku nodded. The awkward silence was back again, but it contained a bit of giddy joy to it now. Aziraphale cast his gaze about for something to add to the conversation and saw his cellular phone lying forgotten on the bedspread.

“Oh dear! I’d been planning to make a call. I suppose it’s still quite early over there… You wouldn’t mind the noise, would you?”

“Not at all. Actually, I was thinking of taking a shower anyway. You can have the room to yourself for a while.” Aziraphale pointedly looked only at his phone as Atiku changed into a bathrobe and grabbed his shower caddy.

Left alone, Aziraphale dialed one of the few numbers in his contacts. It was 9:00 now. Nearly 4:00 over there. Anthony should certainly be home by now. The ringer had sounded just enough times that Aziraphale was beginning to doubt himself. Then there was a small voice on the other end of the phone.

“Hello?”

“Anthony!” Aziraphale could feel a smile bloom across his own face.

“Ezra! You called. Did you get my letter or is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, my boy. Not on my end anyway. It is so wonderful to hear your voice, although I think it’s a bit lower than the last time I heard it.”

“It is not, you liar.” Aziraphale could practically see him, wrinkling his nose in annoyance. It was precious even in imagination. “I still sound like a fucking baby.”

“I don’t think babies often use that sort of language, although I could be wrong.” Anthony would be rolling his eyes now, and smiling despite himself. “Good as it is to speak with you, I got the sense from your letter that all was not well in the state of Denmark.”

“Huh?”

“You said there was something wrong?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s awful!” There was going to be a screed. Aziraphale could tell that much already. He leaned back against the headboard and got comfortable. “So my mom ran into this guy at work, right? He comes in to buy something for his garden. Something boring probably. Like mulch. Anyway, they went to school together back in high school and they started talking about it. Which is weird because Mom _hated_ high school. Anyway, he came back a couple times and then he asked her out. They’re going out this weekend, Ezra. Tomorrow. On a date!”

“Are you worried he won’t treat her well?” The prime motivating factor in Aziraphale’s descension to humanity had been Anthony’s abusive father. The man was out of the picture now, permanently. Aziraphale had seen to that. Still, it was understandable that Anthony might be nervous about the idea of his mother starting a new relationship.

“You don’t need to analyze me, Ezra. I just don’t want some guy coming around and ruining everything. We’re fine, just the two of us. We don’t need anybody else.”

“Well, just because you don’t need anyone else, doesn’t mean your mother might not want some additional companionship. She hasn’t been out with anyone since she left that… man seven years ago. It’s a good sign if she’s feeling comfortable enough to try again. You should be supportive.”

“Ugh.” He could practically hear the adolescent eyeroll across the Atlantic. “That’s what your dad said.”

“Well, sometimes he does give excellent advice. Is there anything else you needed to ask about?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Anthony’s voice was very soft when he spoke again, “No, but… I wouldn’t mind talking some more, if you don’t have to go to bed anytime soon.”

“Not for hours yet,” Aziraphale assured him.

They were still talking when Atiku came back into the room.

* * *

Tony loved Ezra, in more ways than he was willing to admit out loud, but that didn’t mean he had had to listen to his advice. The date was going to arrive sometime in the next fifteen minutes, and he wasn’t going to take this lying down. He was going to face it from the couch in his most nonchalant slouch.

His mother was getting ready in the bathroom, humming old eighties tunes to herself as she did her makeup. It was taking a while and Tony only grew more sullen with each passing minute. When she finally emerged, he sank further into the couch cushions. He hadn’t seen her wear that much makeup since she used to get high at raves when he was little.

“Do you think that’s enough?” he said, snide as he could manage.

She arched an eyebrow in his direction. “Yes, actually, I think I look damn good. I’d give you a lecture about why that’s a jerky thing to say, if I wasn’t positive that you already knew that and that’s why you said it.”

He pouted and she sighed. “I know this is weird for you, Tony, but could you try to be happy for me? This is a really big step. I’m kind of nervous and I need my kid in my corner.”

This was a far more effective tactic than a lecture would have been. Overcome with guilt, Tony heaved himself off of the couch and went to lean against her. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You look really good.”

She smiled at him and, for a moment, things didn’t seem so bad. Then there was a knock on the door and Tony became sullen all over again. He collapsed onto the couch, lounging back and glaring at the apartment door as his mother hurried to answer it.

There was a man on the other side who looked like he’d stepped out of a catalogue for business fashion. The most daring thing about him was the slight bit of stubble that he’d decided not to shave. He had the smile of a Ken doll and Tony hated him the moment his eyes raked over Maddy.

She, however, didn’t seem to mind the raking. She laughed as she grabbed her purse, “I’m glad you found your way here. The directions were all right?”

“They were perfect. Although it did a feel a little weird going into a church to get to the apartment. Not where I would have imagined a rebel like you ending up when we were back in high school!”

“Yeah, well, life doesn’t always go the way you’d have planned it, huh?” Maddy said. Tony thought this guy looked like his life had gone exactly the way his parents had mapped it out when he was still in the womb. “Tony, stop pouting and come say ‘hi’. Hal, this is my son, Tony.”

She put her hand on Tony’s shoulder as though she were proud of him, which made it difficult to say all the cruel things he was thinking.

“Nice to meet you, Sport.”

Being called ‘Sport’ made it easier. He gave Hal his best, belittling, adolescent once over. “Well, you don’t look interesting enough to be a problem.”

Although Hal laughed awkwardly, Tony felt his mother’s grip tighten on his shoulder. She said in a low voice, “ _Tony._ ”

He scoffed but added, “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Alright, we’re going to head out. I wrote down the number for the restaurant, but if there’s an emergency get the Clarks first. They’ll be home tonight, so they’re just next door. If you want you can order yourself a pizza. Be good. I’ll see you later.” Then she kissed him on the forehead, told him she loved him, and left with the yuppie.

The moment they were gone, Tony hurried to the front window and peered down at the car parked in front of Westwich Methodist. The man owned a damned Mercedes and Tony whistled in spite of himself.

There might be some advantages to his mom dating in this town, but only if the guys treated her right. She had a bad track record with men. Boring as _Hal_ looked, he required further observation.

Tony quickly changed into the suit he wore for orchestra concerts, pulled on his jacket, and grabbed the restaurant information that his mother had left behind. The place was in Westwich a long, but doable, walk from his current location.

He hurried from the apartment into the church’s extension, passing Sunday school classrooms and Elijah’s ministerial office without needing to flip on the lights. When he’d made his way out onto the street, he jammed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the breeze.

It was still early October, but there was a nip to the evening air. If Ezra were still home, Tony wondered if he’d have given him a ride or just lectured him about not sticking his nose into Maddy’s business. Perhaps, if he’d offered to buy Ezra dinner, he’d have gotten a lecture and a ride.

The thought of taking Ezra out to dinner, just the two of them, made heat rise in Tony’s cheeks. Suddenly the cold didn’t bother him anymore. He shook his head, trying to clear away his thoughts. He shouldn’t spend so much time fantasizing about his friend when he knew perfectly well that Ezra was too old for him. Shaking his head didn’t do any good though and he spent the rest of the walk lost in his own imagination.

He was flushed with cold and fictional romance by the time he reached downtown Westwich. It wasn’t much of a downtown by the standards of other places. All the shops and restaurants were niche, high-end or both, lest they attract ‘the wrong sort of people’. Tony, who suspected he might be ‘the wrong sort of people’, tried not to look out of place as he approached the door of _Il Primo_.

Ezra had told him once that the trick to getting in somewhere was to act as though you belonged. Swallowing his nerves, Tony tried to do just that. He walked in, easy as you please, without a single anxious glance around the room. He got as far as the host podium before he was stopped.

“Excuse me, young man. May I help you?”

“I’m alright, sir. My parents sent me to double check that the car was locked. I know where we’re sitting.” Tony had prepared the lie earlier and he thought it was pretty brilliant.

The host nodded, looking only mostly convinced, but it was enough for Tony slip by. After all, this was a swanky restaurant not some movie theater. Why should anyone suspect that a kid would try to sneak in?

Il Primo was not a particularly large restaurant, which left Tony with the difficult task of locating his mother without being seen, while also not looking out of place. The dining room was helpfully dim, the lights kept low to allow for the romance of candlelight. Feeling that the concealment of mild shadows was not enough, Tony kept to the edge of the room, gravitating toward a piano that was currently missing its pianist.

He caught sight of his mother, red hair easy to pick out in any crowd. She was facing away from him, but one turn of her head toward the right and Tony’s mission would be over before it began. In a moment when no one seemed to be looking, he ducked beneath the piano. Hopefully no one would notice him there.

It wasn’t the ideal place for a spy mission, but if he bent his head just right he could see his mother and Hal across the room. The walk had taken Tony long enough that they were already working on their appetizers. Maddy looked like she were enjoying the food. He could not tell if she were enjoying the company.

He stayed at his post, trying to guess what they might be talking about as appetizers made way for the salad course. Hal seemed to laugh a lot, in a sort of wide-mouthed and head-thrown-back kind of way. It might have been a decent sign, if only Maddy had been laughing too. She continued to smile, but the expression was more polite than amused. Her eyes were dead.

Was he telling stories that made her uncomfortable? Was he mocking things she loved? Was he making fun of _her_?

Tony had planned on making a dramatic entrance if Hal had done something truly horrible. He’d told himself he would leave quietly if his mother seemed happy. He had no scheme for whatever this was. If this were some kids’ movie like _Parent Trap_ or _Matilda_ or something, he’d have come equipped a frog and bugs to slip into Hal’s dinner. Maybe he’d have been able to rig up some sort of Rube Goldberg Machine that would humiliate the man by pulling down his pants or removing his toupee.

But he didn’t think Hal had a toupee and if he moved an inch from the piano he was certain one of the waiters would notice.

He needed some way to let his mother know he was there to rescue her, if she needed him. He would have to use the only tool at his disposal.

Squirming up onto the bench, Tony took his position at the piano. He would not have long before the staff politely asked him to leave, so he would need a song that got the point across immediately. His mother had been an eighties teen. She’d recognize Bonnie Tyler when she heard it.

Quick as he could, Tony launched into the classiest version of “Holding Out for a Hero” ever heard. He was only a few bars in when a hand was placed on his shoulder. The host loomed over him, one eyebrow impressively raised.

“What do you think you are doing, young man?”

“Auditioning?” Tony suggested. The eyebrow managed to go even higher. “I’ll leave now.”

“I think that would be best.”

The next part of Tony’s half-baked plan had been to stand outside the restaurant for fifteen minutes or so, in case his mother needed him. He didn’t even need to wait that long. Before the host had guided him out of the room, Maddy was crossing toward them. Her face completely flushed.

“I am _so_ sorry. That’s mine and he is _not_ supposed to be here.”

The host glanced between the two of them, likely comparing the hair and freckles. Eventually he said, “What would you like me to do with him, Ma’am?”

“Rats,” said Tony flatly. “Are you going to have to end your date?”

He’d thought she was taking advantage of his brilliant escape route, but she glared at him and asked to use the phone. Then she called the Clarks.

“If you’d like to return to your meal,” the host offered when she hung up, “I’ll keep an eye on the boy until your friends come to collect him.”

“Really? Oh, thank you!” She beamed and then turned to Tony with a scowl, “ _We_ will talk when I get home.”

“But-”

“You’re not getting your way on this. Sit, don’t bother this man, and be a perfect angel with the Clarks. I’ll see you at home.” Then she left. Tony slumped into his chair, folded his arms, and glared at the floor. The host smugly returned to his podium.

* * *

The ride home had been one long, humiliating lecture punctuated by both Clarks deciding to spend the rest of the evening in the Jay’s apartment on babysitting duty. He was forced to play board games while Elijah tried to understand what he was going through and called him ‘pal’.

He was practically fourteen. This ought to be considered a form of torture.

At 8:45, Maddy returned. Edith shook her head when Tony went to spy from the window in the kitchenette. So he had to wait until his mother had come up, thanked the Clarks for putting up with Tony’s crap, and took off her coat before he could gauge how anything went.

“Sooo, how’d it go?”

She whirled on him, “Do you have any idea how frustrated I am with you?”

He studied her furious expression, “I think I’m getting an idea.”

“Every time I think you’re growing up you go and pull something like this.” She was pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly. It had been a while since he’d seen her this angry, “And you know what? This one hurts more than every other hair brained scheme you’ve ever pulled, because you invaded my privacy. I asked you for your support and you decided to sabotage me instead.”

“I wasn’t trying to sabotage you!” Tony squawked with indignation. “I was just trying to give you an escape if that guy turned out to be a creep or something. I could’ve been your excuse to leave!”

That made Maddy pause and she sank onto the couch beside him. She seemed more tired than angry now. She said his name like a sigh. “Tony, you can’t do that. I need to be able to put myself out there and I need the ability to take that risk on my own. I can’t have you running interference just in case something goes wrong. That’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to you either. You’re the kid. I take care of you. Alright?”

He shrugged. Not convinced enough to say anything. She sighed, if possible, even harder. “Look, everything else aside, I have the right to some privacy. If you’d like me to keep that part of my life totally separate until something gets serious, I can do that. I thought it would be better if I introduced you, but I won’t going forward, if that makes you uncomfortable.”

Tony, who’d practically become one with the couch, sat up straight and raised an eyebrow, “New people going forward? Are you not seeing Hal again?”

“No,” she said, looking at him flatly. “And not because he was mean or abusive. He was boring. He literally didn’t want to talk about anything but high school. He really liked the Bonnie Tyler, by the way. Right in his ideal time frame.”

Tony, feeling victorious, did his best not seem pleased. His best wasn’t very good.

“Don’t look so smug. Hal’s out, but I have every intention of continuing to date. Especially now that the worst thing that happened was uninteresting conversation. And, you know what, you should want to be supportive and respectful of my right to see people, because you might end up wanting to date someone in the next couple years.”

It was Tony’s turn to frown. They had never explicitly discussed his sexuality or his crush on Ezra, but she knew and she knew he knew she knew. He did not doubt that the person he was dating in this imaginary scenario was a boy. But he was pretty sure it wasn’t Ezra.

“Who do you think I’m gonna go out with?” he snapped.

Her face softened completely and she pulled him close. “I guess it might be pretty hard to ask someone out, huh? If you ever wanted to just have someone over, you know, if this is a safer space, that’s okay too.”

She was being very supportive, but she wasn’t being very understanding. He squirmed out of her embrace and hoped his frown was more glare than pout. It wasn’t. “You know… I thought you knew… I thought you knew who I liked…”

“Oh, Tony.” The soft expression had taken on just an edge of pity and, despite her best efforts to hide it, a touch of amusement. “You shouldn’t… You can’t… You… You should let yourself explore a little. You’re thirteen, you’re not… you’re not committed to anyone.”

Tony was embarrassed, frustrated, and insulted all at once. Ironically, it was probably similar to what his mother had felt when she saw him in the restaurant. He stood up and huffed, “I’m going to bed.”

“Tony, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to downplay your feelings. Do you want to talk about it more?”

His shoulders slumped as a little of the indignation slipped away. Still, he didn’t want to talk. She’d listen, he knew she would, but she wouldn’t change her mind. It would still be some childish infatuation to her. She’d believe he believed he was serious, but she wouldn’t believe it herself. She wouldn’t think he was willing to wait as long as he needed to. She wouldn’t think he was capable of it.

But, she meant well, so he offered her an uneven smile. “Nah, it’s alright. And I am sorry about interrupting your date. I’ll probably hate most of the guys you go out with but, I’ll trust you to take care of it. Good night, Mom.”

He hugged her, let her kiss him, and then fled into the safety of his room. It wasn’t yet 9:00 and, over in London, it would still be the middle of the night. Ezra would be curled up in his dorm room bed, sleeping peacefully. It wouldn’t be fair to call him now, to wake him up, to complain about how Tony had spent the evening making an idiot of himself.

He could do that tomorrow.

For now, he reached for his guitar and one of his notebooks of staff paper. If he was too young to date Ezra and too far away to speak with him, he could always write about him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. For those of you following the ongoing saga of me not making up my mind about whether to combine to parts of the plan or not- it will be settled by next week. I finished all 22 chapters of what originally would have been part 5 and am currently reading it over. If it feels satisfactory, I'll let part 6 be it's own thing. If it feels incomplete I'll mush them together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warning:  
> Drinking

Aziraphale did not fully grasp the benefit of texting. It lacked the more direct communication of a phone call and had none of the artistry of proper letter writing. That and it was a good deal more expensive. Still, he had to admit, when he glanced at his phone after class, that it was nice to see a brief message from Atiku.

Although it did take some puzzling to figure out exactly what “:) Bday” meant.

Aziraphale’s Thursday schedule was rather heavy in the morning, but it left him with the afternoons mostly free. That was vital today. It was his 18th birthday and he had a very important luncheon planned.

Although university as an experience was taking some getting used to, London as a whole was not. Stepping off of campus grounds and onto familiar pavement, it was easy to make his way absolutely anywhere in his city. There were times, especially in the empty evening hours, that Aziraphale regretted traveling so far from Anthony. But strolling down the streets of London he had to admit that the boy was undeniably right about one thing. Aziraphale was never so comfortable anywhere else in the world.

Lunch was to be had at a delightful little café part way between campus and Aziraphale’s old Soho stomping grounds. The walk was just long enough to enjoy the autumn air and build up a proper appetite. His head was spinning with thoughts of fresh bread, sandwiches, and birthday treats by the time he was greeted by a loud, “Aziraphale!”

He beamed at the handsome young man who was waving at him, all curly hair and a perfect smile. Aziraphale would have known him even without the greeting or the small dog wagging by his feet.

“Adam, look how grown up you are.” He gave the boy a quick embrace before stepping back to look him over with a fatherly sort of approval.

Adam laughed at him. “That’s a little bizarre coming from someone seven years younger than me. I should be the one saying it. You were only this big last time I saw you.”

He gestured with his hand and dog, not understanding, leapt up to get a pet.

“Well, I was this tall when you _first_ met me, so I still think it’s fair,” Aziraphale huffed. He found himself unable to keep up the pretense of annoyance and went back to beaming. “Oh, but I do mean it. You look so well. How have you been doing?”

“Great, great. We ought to go in though, grab a table and then we can talk more.” Adam led the way in and Aziraphale found himself a little jealous of the boy’s ease. So much of the last nine years had been him adjusting to not having the powers necessary to solve his every struggle. Watching everyone in the café accept the presence of Dog without question rankled a bit, though not enough to dim his mood.

As soon as they were settled, at a little window table with a lovely view of the passersby, Aziraphale burst into questions again. “You simply must tell me how you and all your friends are doing. Are Anathema and Newton still settled in Tadfield? Are you in contact with them?”

“You don’t want to grab food first?” Adam asked.

“Oh, well, I suppose we could do that.”

So he had to wait again, as they went to the counter to place their orders. It would have been nice to have chosen a place with a proper waiting staff, but Adam had offered to pay and Aziraphale hadn’t wanted to push. Besides, it didn’t make much difference once they were settled back at the table with their meals before them.

“Alright, so I suppose I could start in on those answers now. I’m doing alright. I’ve been living in the city for the past few years. It’s not where I want to be permanently, but it seemed the right thing to do in your early twenties.”

“You want to end up in Tadfield, then?”

“Of course,” Adam said without so much as a pause. “It’s my home.”

Aziraphale could remember the waves of love that engulfed the entire area. Adam was spreading his wings because he felt he ought to, but he was tied to Tadfield like a migrating bird. He’d always know his way back.

“When do you think you’ll move home?”

“Pretty soon, I reckon. I’ve been working at this non-profit in London. It’s a really cool program. We work with schools to help teach kids about the environment and raise money for educational programs and stuff. I’ve really learned a lot working there.” He trailed off, an odd glint in his eye. There was mischief there or at least some sort of scheme.

“Would you be able to continue that work in Tadfield?”

“Not exactly but, I’ve got this idea.” Adam sat up suddenly and leaned across the table, alight with his own brilliance. “Do you know that big building near Tadfield? The one that hosts all those business retreats and stuff?”

Aziraphale nodded. “The Satanic Nunnery where you were born.”

“Right, well, if I could get the woman who owns it sell, then I’d like to turn it into a Nature education center. A place where kids from cities could go on field trips or summer vacations where they’d learn about the environment and get a chance to experience the country properly. Somewhere they could learn to fall in love the world and appreciate it. You know, like I did.”

Aziraphale could still see him, all scabbed knees and short pants, standing against Death and Satan himself for the good of the world. The planet could do with a fleet of little Adams. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Have you got it all planned out?”

“Yeah, mostly. I’ve just got to raise some funding for it, persuade the owner to sell it, and get my friends to join in.”

“I don’t think _you’ll_ have trouble getting her sell,” Aziraphale said thinking of the toesy-woesies. “But do think you can get all your friends back?”

“Course, I just need jobs for them and I’ve got it all figured out. We’ll need a finance person, right? That’s Wensley. He’s got his accounting degree. And Pepper’s just finished getting into law, so she can be our lawyer. Nonprofits need good lawyers and nobody is going to win an argument against her. And Brian… I’ll find something for Brian.” Coming back from his dreams, Adam gave Aziraphale a sheepish glance. “At least that’s how I hope it’ll work out. How have things been for you? Is Crowley alright?”

“As well as can be expected for age thirteen, I expect. His mother has started dating recently and he’s taking it a bit hard. But, oh, he’s doing such a wonderful job being human. I’m sure I mentioned in my letters that he’s a musician, but I’m sure I didn’t get across how impressive he is.” And then it was Aziraphale’s turn to go off on a tangent. The next half hour or so was all stories of Anthony, of his talent and sweetness and everything Aziraphale adored about him. It was only toward the end of the meal that he remembered conversations were supposed to go two ways.

He let Adam tell him about the Pulsifer-Devices and the three little daughters that he referred to as “Anathema’s Coven”. He heard about Tracy and Sargent Shadwell, now getting up there in years, but quite comfortably settled in their little seaside home.

This surprised Aziraphale more than anything else. Based on what he knew about Shadwell’s lifestyle, by all rights the man should have been dead many decades ago.

They took up their table for far longer than the meal and it was only Adam’s general aura that kept the staff from shooing them away. Still, after an hour, the two finally stood up and made their way out of the café.

“Is it alright for you to be away from work for this long? Won’t your boss be upset?”

Adam shrugged easily. “It’ll be alright.”

He said it with a certainty that made it true. Good God, Aziraphale missed being able to do that.

“Besides, I knew this would take longer than just a lunch hour. We’ve got another job to do still, don’t we?”

Aziraphale had been purposely putting this next bit out of his mind. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel excited. He did. It was only that the whole thing felt very overwhelming. As Adam began to walk down the street, Aziraphale and Dog followed.

“I went back once, you know. A few summers ago. I didn’t touch it then. I was afraid I’d wreck the miracle, but even just seeing it was… well, it was a lot.”

Adam slowed down and gave a lopsided smile. “There’s nothing wrong with it being a lot. It can be as much as it needs to be. I don’t have to go back to work until you’re ready.”

Adam paused and looked Aziraphale over. The angel knew he was visibly nervous and he attempted to wipe the palms of his hands on his trousers without drawing too much attention. Adam spoke again, “You do want to do this today, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, with a firm nod. “It’s just slight nerves.”

The rest of the walk was silent, although Adam kept casting glances in Aziraphale’s direction. It was only ten minutes, but it felt at once too brief and too lengthy for comfort. His feet were feather light and leaden simultaneously.

When he stood before the bookshop he thought he might laugh and cry and vomit. But all he did was stare.

It was Adam who opened the door, but he did not go in first. He gestured and waited patiently as Aziraphale lifted each heavy foot up the steps toward A.Z Fell and Co.

When he’d visited last and stood outside of his shop, Aziraphale had found himself sobbing and overwhelmed. He had expected an even more intense reaction today. But, when he stepped inside and found it exactly as he’d left it, not so much as a speck of dust out of place, he felt a level of calm that he had not experienced in years.

It was like putting on a centuries old coat, like slipping into a mug of warm cocoa, like reading a favorite novel while listening to an old familiar tune. Here was his book hoard, his old Victrola, his favorite chair, his desk, his décor. He wandered through the space laying reverent fingers on every surface, smiling at every item.

Only once did he find his lip began to tremble. It was when he passed the old sofa in the back of the shop. Everything else was his for himself. The sofa was his for Crowley and it seemed remarkably empty without a demon in it.

But there was enough distraction to keep from crying. He explored his kitchenette, his ancient computer, his collection of angel wing mugs. He found, to his disappointment, that there was no upstairs flat. He’d forgotten that there hadn’t been one when he’d bought the place. He’d simply wished it in and out of existence when he’d found the need. It had been out of existence when he’d transformed.

“I don’t suppose you could make an entire furnished set of rooms for me?” Aziraphale asked when he located Adam amongst the shelves, looking at the children’s books he’d once imagined into existence.

He shook his head. “My powers are more limited than that now. Pretty good for persuading people to overlook things and maybe making the occasionally little item, but making a whole floor that doesn’t exist from the outside is out of reach. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’d half a dream of not having to pay any rent next year, but I suppose I’ll have to struggle along with everybody else in London.”

“One thing I can do for you is make sure this place continues to be ignored for a while, since I’m assuming you’re going to be too busy with Uni to run it properly.”

Aziraphale laughed, “Well, I never ran it _properly_.”

“You might have to though, someday. You’re going to need to make money at some point now that you’re human,” Adam said, off hand. He seemed more interested in petting dog than the weight of his words. Still, Aziraphale frowned.

He had money. Quite a lot of it as of today, since he’d finally inherited his own funds. But quite a lot when you didn’t need it and quite a lot when you had to survive on it for another sixty or seventy years, were very different things. Adam was right. He’d need to decide what on earth he was going to do for a living at some point.

“You alright? You look a little down all the sudden.”

Aziraphale forced a smile. “I’m just fine, thank you. Just thinking about jobs and all that. I think I’d like to try getting a proper human one and not just doing the same thing I’ve been doing for over a century. Especially if book selling will actually mean selling books.”

Adam laughed at him and then tried to train his face back into one of sympathy and understanding. “Do you want me to close the shop back up then?”

“No!” Aziraphale said quickly. “I might need to sell things, especially since I’m not exactly sure what one does with an English degree now that I’m getting one. But even, even if I do end up doing something else… this place me home. It’s my sanctuary. This is the most wonderful thing I could imagine for my birthday.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Adam said with a shrug. “You’re eighteen now and you’re not in the United States. Isn’t there something else you’ve been missing for a while?”

And Aziraphale grinned. He’d nearly forgotten booze.

* * *

There were two clocks on the wall by the little table in the Jay’s apartment. There had only been one last year, but Tony had asked his mother what time it was in London so many times, that she had decided to get a second. She’d bought it for cheap and set it five hours ahead. Tony sat at the table now, phone in his hands, staring up at clock number two.

He’d tried to call earlier, right when he’d gotten home from school, but there’d been a busy signal. It had probably been the Clarks. He could imagine Edith rushing home from work to call her son on his birthday. She’d gotten there first.

Now it was nearly 10:00 London time and Tony was a little worried that Ezra might already be asleep. He might have missed his birthday entirely. Still, it was worth another call. College students weren’t exactly known for early evenings.

Dialing the cell phone number that he’d already learned off by heart, Tony waited nervously, drumming his fingers against the pressed wood of the table. It rang twice, without answer, before a familiar voice came over the other end of the line. Although, it didn’t quite sound like it usually did.

“ANTHONY! Oh, oh, oh dear I was wondering if… if you’d call. Atiku, I said he’d call. Didn’t I? Didn’t I say he’d call?”

Ezra had always been soft spoken, especially when on the phone, but now he was too loud.

“Happy birthday, Ezra. Is everything okay?”

“Okay? Yes, yes, yes of course it is. ‘Specially now that you’ve called. Oh, I do miss you Anthony. I miss your little face. And the freckles. The freckles are just, just the sweetest. You should… you might consider keeping them. Is all I’m saying. You might… might… you know. Afterward. You should keep them. If you like.”

Tony had begun holding the phone out from his ear. He moved it closer to say, “What are you talking about? Afterward when?”

“OH! Oh. I wasn’t supposed to say that. Just… just pretend I didn’t. Pretend. That’s a good boy.”

Tony frowned. Glaring at nothing because he couldn’t glare at Ezra. He knew that tone, even if he didn’t know it on his friend. He tightened his fist and made an accusation, “You’re drunk!”

“Just a little tipsy, dear. Well, perhaps… perhaps a touch more than tipsy. Atiku, are we pissed yet?” There was a muffled voice in the background. Tony thought it might have said ‘working on it’ and then giggled. “See? Not there yet.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking at all!” Tony snapped, aware that he was probably being unfair. He knew lots of kids in high school and college drank, and they didn’t all end up like his parents. But this was _Ezra_ and Ezra wasn’t supposed to break rules unless Tony was the one who persuaded him to do it.

Worse still, Ezra laughed. “Why on earth shouldn’t I?”

“It’s against the law.”

“Not here. It’s not illegal. Not here. Eighteen is… is… Tell the boy, Atiku.” There was some rustling on the other end of the phone and Tony found himself talking to someone else entirely.

The person could not stop chuckling, “Hello! Hello. Are you Anthony? Am I… am I supposed to tell you something?”

“You the roommate?” Tony asked, but he was overwhelmed by the sound of Ezra yelling across the dorm room.

“Tell the boy, tell him eighteen is the drinking age here!”

“Ezra says that eighteen is the drinking age here!”

Tony, even more frustrated now because he’d lost the crux of the argument, frowned harder. “Yeah, well, you still shouldn’t get drunk. It’s not good for your brain and stuff. I bet you made him do it. You made him go out and get drunk at some bar or something. Take him home right now!”

The voice became far less jolly. “But we’re in our room…”

There was a brief discussion on the other end as the phone changed hands once more. “Don’t be… don’t be so RUDE, Anthony. We’re not out… I didn’t… I didn’t wait this long to go out and get… PISSED on cheap beer. We’re having REAL wine, Anthony. I showed Atiku how to pick it! That’s important. It’s important, you know. What are you so GRUMPY about?”

Tony sat now, alone in his apartment, legs curled up against his chest. “I’m not grumpy, I just-”

“Aha!” said Ezra, although Tony couldn’t guess what he’d figured out. “Jealous. You’re jealous. You don’t have to be jealous though. You never have to be jealous. You know that. You’re my… You’re my favorite. My precious little boy. Precious, sweet, little Anthony. Sweet, precious, Anthony. My boy.”

Tony went red to the tips of his ears. He knew his crush wasn’t returned, but it never helped when Ezra talked about him like that. He didn’t need the reminder that he was only a baby in Ezra’s eyes.

Although, if he could just cut out the bit where Ezra said he was his ‘favorite’ and forget everything else, that wouldn’t be so bad. “I’m not jealous, I just… I don’t want you drinking too much.”

“That all? You never used to mind…” There was a long pause, then Ezra got too loud again. “Pretend I didn’t, I didn’t say that part. Only, only don’t worry. I won’t… I won’t go over… I won’t go… I won’t overdo it. I won’t get addicted. Only… only it’s my birthday… and I thought… I DIDN’T MEAN TO UPSET YOU.”

He sounded now as though he might cry. Tony backpedaled far faster than he ever had on a bike. “No! It’s fine. I mean, you’re at home and safe, right? And you were right before. I forgot the rules were different. I’m not upset. I’m glad you’re enjoying your birthday. Just, you know, take care of yourself. Okay?”

Ezra was all bubbly happiness again. “I will. I will, dear. Thank you so, so, so much for calling. I love you, darling.”

He began to mumble again, sweet, precious, little, over and over again. Tony said goodbye and hung up. He sat there, staring at the phone, unmoving for a full minute before letting out a cry of embarrassed anguish, and stumbling to his room to throw himself on his bed.

He was an idiot.

Why had he done that? He’d sounded like a dumbass little kid. Even if he hadn’t forgotten the difference in drinking age, what did it matter? Ezra was smart. Ezra didn’t take risks. Tony could trust him without going off on some public service announcement.

He just knew Ezra would call him back tomorrow and apologize. He would say something like, “You poor thing. I should have known you’d have been upset by any substance use. It must have reminded you of the old days, when your mother was still struggling and your father was so cruel. Poor, precious, little, dear.”

Ugh, and that was the worst part. He was going into High School soon and still it was ‘little’ and ‘precious’ and ‘sweet’. Tony wished the mattress would swallow him whole.

At least, Tony thought to himself, pushing back up into a sitting position, Ezra had said Tony was his favorite. That was something to cling onto.

Tony kept his collection of staff paper notebooks under his bed, in a container that had been intended for storing shoes. He leaned over now to pull it free, popping off the plastic lid and sorting through his collection to find the one he’d been working on last. He probably ought to organize everything, but he’d need a better storage system for that and there wasn’t enough space in his tiny bedroom to add another piece of furniture.

Despite the mess, Tony finally unearthed his current project, found a pen on the floor, seized his guitar, and started pouring his angst into this work.

He wasn’t very good at lyrics- at least not yet. It was a lot of half-formed metaphors, that he thought might be poetic, crammed together with rhymes that didn’t make sense. That or he’d write out what might as well be a diary entry put to music, rhyming be damned. Tony always cringed when he looked his work back over, but he cringed less than he did when he looked at what he’d written sixth months ago, so he figured that must be progress.

Still, even if they’d been perfect, he would have kept them locked in the plastic bin beneath his bed. There was far too much pining and whining about how Ezra would never love him, mixed in with an increasing number of detailed romantic fantasies. Sometimes the songs were sort of a mash up of both, much like what he was working on now.

Tony might have convinced himself to stop embarrassing himself, if he didn’t get so lost in the process once he’d begun. He didn’t even notice when the apartment door opened or hear his mother puttering as she hung up her coat and washed up from work. He didn’t notice, that was, until she knocked on his bedroom door and he ran a jagged line across his paper in terror.

“I’m not doing anything bad!”

Maddy’s voice was bemused. “I didn’t say you were? I just wanted to check in. Your music seems a little… down today. Is everything alright?”

Shutting his notebook and slamming it back into its under bed plastic prison, Tony hurried to the door and opened it just wide enough to peak out. His mother glanced down at him, one eyebrow raised.

“What did you hear?” Tony demanded.

She put her hands up defensively. “Couldn’t make out any of the lyrics. I promise. But I could hear the music alright. You want to talk?”

“No,” Tony said shortly. He began to close his door but she caught it in her hand.

“It feels pretty weird not having Ezra around for his birthday, huh? I was going to call him, what do you think?”

Clearly the conversation was not going to be optional. Tony squeezed his way into the main section of the apartment, shutting the door behind him. If they were going to talk, he’d rather do so out in the open and keep his bedroom private. He flopped onto the couch, “I already called him.”

“And?”

“And you don’t need to call him again. It’s late there and he’ll probably be too drunk to even talk straight by this point.” He gave her a hard look, wondering how she’d react.

Her eyes went saucer round for a moment and then she laughed at herself. “I was about to be shocked he was breaking rules, but that’s the drinking age over there, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I forgot too but it took me longer to remember and I made a butt out of myself first.”

His mother’s face softened and she settled on the couch beside him. “How were you a butt?”

Tony could feel himself turning red again as he reimagined the entire conversation. “I basically lectured him on it. I sounded like a narc.”

A motherly arm went around his shoulder and she pulled him against her side. “I’m sure he understands, Tony. It’s weird for you. You’ve watched me deal with substance abuse and, even though your dad was never addicted, he didn’t exactly have a healthy relationship with alcohol either.”

“He never had a healthy relationship with anything,” Tony muttered.

Maddy gave him a quick high-five before continuing. “What I’m saying is, you’re coming at all this from a different perspective. The Clarks have always been a glass of wine with dinner kind of people. That’s mostly been Ezra’s experience that and, based on some of the things he’s said over the year, I get the feeling his biological family were wine snobs. I’m mostly just surprised that he’d go out and get drunk on something cheap.”

“He didn’t,” Tony admitted. “He took his roommate out to buy fancy stuff and they were just drinking it in their dorm room.”

“Yeah, that sounds more like our Ezra.” She sighed and gave Tony a squeeze. “Look, this isn’t an easy conversation because I want you to understand that it’s okay for Ezra to experiment a little. He’s legally allowed, they’re in their room so it sounds like their being safe. If he starts getting drunk regularly, that might become concerning but on his birthday, you know there’s nothing wrong with that. But I… and I know this is going to sound wickedly unfair, I want you to be more careful than that. Even when you’re all grown up.”

“I know.”

“It must sound completely unreasonable to say that Ezra can do that and it’s fine but if you do it’s not but… did you just say ‘I know’?” She seemed quite as worked up as he’d been when he’d gotten off the phone.

Tony shrugged. He didn’t need to put her through a conversation she’d been dreading. “We talked about drugs and stuff in health class. I know addiction can run in families. I gotta be more careful than most people. We don’t have to talk about it.”

The room became very quiet. They sat together, the dim light of late October filtering in through the apartment’s small windows. It made everything seem too cold, so Tony reached for the dangling pull of a nearby lamp. It’s glow was warmer, safer, more comfortable. More the way he actually felt with his mother.

She gave him half a smile. “I’m glad you’re taking it seriously. Is that what was bothering you, then? Knowing Ezra’s doing something you might never be able to join him in or… is this another one of those things where you get frustrated because he’s hit another mile stone that you feel five steps behind on?”

Tony winced, she’d hit the bullseye there. It was partly the drinking, partly jealousy about the roommate, but it was also the number ‘18’. Ezra was an adult now and Tony was barely even a teenager. More than any of that though was one simple fact, “I just really miss him.”

“I know. I miss him too, but he’ll be back in two months and then you’ll have him all to yourself.”

Tony drummed his fingers on his knees and scowled at the coffee table. “Yeah but what if… what if when he comes back everything is different? What if he’s changed and we don’t… _fit_ together anymore?”

Maddy took his chin in her hand and turned his face so he would look at her. “I can’t tell you nothing will change. It will, that’s just how life works. He’ll have changed a little and you’ll have changed too. But, Tony, he won’t care about you any less. I’m more sure of that than anything else on this planet.”

Tony huffed. He knew she was probably right, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Ezra would change and Tony would just be exactly the same. Ezra’s life, the past few months, had been nothing but new people and new experiences. Tony had been at the same school, with the same people, doing the same old stuff.

He gave his mother a sideways glance, “I might feel a little better if I could do something fun and a little grown up too.”

“Where is this going?” Her brows lowered

Tony’s raised, “Well, I’m really too old for trick or treating anymore and I thought maybe I could go to a concert on Halloween instead?”

“This better not have a been a plan from the beginning. What’s this concert and how much does it cost?”

“I was honestly humiliated and miserable when you came home,” he assured her. “It’s a Halloween battle of the bands. Mikey’s brother is in it. It’s just high school groups so it only costs ten dollars to get in. It runs from 8 to 11 on mischief night, which is a Saturday this year so I won’t be staying up too late. It’s at the town youth center, so it’s not like anything really bad can happen. PLEASE?”

He clasped his hands together, the better to actually beg. Maddy sighed, “Alright. That seems fair. Now go wash up. We’ve got to get dinner together.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” Feeling significantly brighter, he floated to the kitchen to wash his hands. It wasn’t just that he’d get to do something fun, it was that he’d get to do something interesting. When Ezra came home, maybe that would mean Tony was a little more interesting too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you were hoping for Adam and part 4 and I promised he'd showed up. Here he is!
> 
> I hope I did him justice. It was hard to reason out how much of the way he talked was him and how much was being an eleven year old.
> 
> OH and I forgot to add: I am smushing parts 5 and 6 together. I read 5 on its own and it’s just not complete.


End file.
